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Or someone.
Aiden waved a hand forward. “You’ve got the lead, Liz.”
Though I was now holding the shoe at the very end of its laces, its heartbeat was stronger than ever. It led us down the path toward the old settlement—and I just had to hope that instinct was wrong, and that it wasn’t also leading us into a trap.
The two men followed close on my heels—Aiden’s steps inaudible over Hart’s heavier tread—but I felt no safer for their closeness. Whatever I was sensing, whatever lay in wait up ahead, it was aimed at them more than me.
Which made no sense, given I was the one the vampire had sworn revenge on.
About three-quarters of a kilometer away from the truck, the shoe pulled us off the faint path and into the trees. I squeezed past several clumps of spiky gorse bushes and discovered another path. If the first one had been little more than a goat track, this could only be described as a mouse run.
I glanced briefly over my shoulder. “Is this a secondary track to the old settlement?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but there are a number of old mining shacks scattered throughout these hills.” Aiden touched my shoulder, the contact light and all too brief. “Do you want me to take the lead? If the trap you fear is physical rather than magical, I’ll have more chance of spotting it.”
Images of the fishing line I’d almost stumbled into at the old mine flashed into my mind, and without hesitation, I stood to one side. But I felt no safer for his lead. Not given neither of us had seen the shaft trap before we’d fallen into it.
The trees soon began to thin out but the gorse did the opposite. I used the shoe to hold the worst of it away from my body as I edged past the various thickets, but with the stronger connection came the certainty that we were walking toward death and disaster. But again, it didn’t feel aimed at me. It didn’t really feel aimed at Aiden, either. Not yet, anyway.
Hart was its target. If he continued on, he would not see this day out.
I stopped so abruptly he all but plowed into my back. Only his quick reflexes saved us both from a tumble.
“Why the fuck did you stop?” he said.
“You need to go back.” Urgency pulsed through my voice. “If you’ll go on, you’ll die.”
“The shoe is telling you that?” He raised his eyebrows, disbelief evident.
“No, but—”
“Psychometry isn’t clairvoyance,” he continued. “So unless you’re suddenly claiming that talent, let’s all move on. It’s pretty obvious even to me that there’s no one other than us and the flies here in this goddamn shit of a place.”
“You have to trust me—” I reached out and grabbed his forearm, trying to make him see. Trying to make him believe. “I may not have classic clairvoyance but I do dream, and that gives validity to what I’m feeling—”
“A mere feeling is not a good enough reason for me to depart, Ms. Grace.” Hart’s voice was edged with impatience. “I’ve known many a psychic over the years, and their predictions were wrong just as often as they were right.”
“No psychic in existence has ever got it right one hundred percent of the time, not even me,” I said. “But I’m not wrong—not this time.”
“We are dealing with a whole lot more than an ordinary criminal here,” Aiden said. “I think it might be wise to listen—”
“I can’t do my job in retreat,” Hart said, annoyance deepening his tone. “And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve faced the specter of death. So let’s just move on.”
I glanced at Aiden, who shrugged minutely and walked on. I followed. There wasn’t much else I could do.
The ground began to rise more steeply, and as the trees continued to thin out, I got glimpses of what had to be the Rushdown Settlement below us. Smoke drifted from the chimney of a building on the outskirts of the small town, but even from here I could tell the cabin didn’t match the one I’d seen in my dreams.
We finally reached the top of the ridge. Sitting in the middle of the rock-strewn clearing was the old shack made of stone and roughly split trees. Black plastic still covered what remained of the windows, but there was no smoke coming from the chimney, and the place looked and felt empty.
“This is it.” I studied the clearing but couldn’t see any indication of magic. “This is the cabin I saw in my dream.”
Aiden’s nostrils flared. After a moment, he said, “There’s no one near. In fact, I doubt anyone has been here for some time.”
“Even if he has now abandoned the place, we still have to go in,” Hart said. “However unlikely, we might just find something that will at least tell us who he is.”
“We already know that,” I said, without really thinking. “He’s Frederick Waverley, who was transported to Australia for murdering….”
My voice trailed off as I became aware that both men were staring at me—and then I remembered I hadn’t actually passed on the information Maelle had given me.
